Hannah Hingeheels

Although Bruce Draney is a mean and cruel man, who continues to make sarcastic remarks about my former girlfriends who, after all, have feelings too and are out there somewhere reading this, his posted parodies of me are quite funny sometimes, and so I have reposted some of them here, including this one:

This is a parody. If you do not wish to read this parody, close the window on this post and move on to serious chess matters.

As my electroshock therapy treatments wore off last night, I began to wax nostalgic about two of my old girlfriends from the 80's, Hannah Hingeheels, the poor little girl who couldn't stand up when a male of the species was within 10 feet of her, and my ex tempermental but exceedingly beautiful girlfriend, Fulla Passion, who makes my hormones boil, but also threatened to boil me in oil if I ever came within 100 yards of her again.

I don't know if I can find any way to relate Hannah or Fulla to chess, but it is exceedingly important that I broadcast my personal sexploits on this newsgroup, particularly since I am losing my mind.

Last I knew of Hannah, she was falling down like her last name, working her way through the crew of the Nimitz, when it was anchored in California, back in the early 80's. Unfortunately, Hannah Hingeheels was never able to fall down for me except for one time, when I wore the disguise that I stole from the guy in the Village People band and she thought I was a sailor. But I digress. I was able to give Hannah Hingeheels personal chess lessons and she was amazingly good and able to play the first 5 moves of the Grob without getting checkmated. I personally feel that without my personal tutoring in chess that she would have been checkmated in 5 moves playing the Grob.

I long for the days where I can rekindle my relationship with the beautiful Fulla Passion. I don't know where she is now, as I did a worldwide search for her and found nothing. It's been over a decade since Fulla and I did things under the table of the Manhattan Public Library and etched our names on the underside of the table with my magic woodburning set, which I had kept since I was a wee lad in the insane asylum in Iowa.

Unfortunately Fulla stabbed me with a 16 inch butcher knife in 1982, which prompted me to move out of our shabby dive that rented for $15.00/month in Brooklyn. I'm convinced that secretly Fulla is still crazy about me and the butcher knife was all a misunderstanding based on the fact that I made lurid remarks about Hannah Hingeheels to her when I was attempting to kiss her. For some reason which I cannot understand, Fulla did not want to hear my ribald tales of love involving the beautiful but apparently dizzy Hannah Hingeheels.

Once I left our cozy Brooklyn dive, I wandered the country, trying to find cheaper places to rent where the women weren't so particular. This of course took me to Reno, Nevada, where I slept under hotel tables for over a year, while I spent my life savings, which was $30.00, and had several treatments for my unmentionable condition, which shall continue to go unmentioned.

Last I knew of the intoxicating Fulla, she was demonstrating her talents to the entire entourage of the Republic of Trovania, and the leader of that country had named her Prime Minister, in gratitude for her many talents, none of which she learned from me, but I digress.

I have figured out that Hannah Hingeheels may also be on my family tree, and once I have run for the USCF Board again, I intend to determine if Hannah Hingeheels is still alive, and why she is living under Federal Protection? I suspect that if this unsubstantiated rumor is true, that it must be because of her defense of Robert James Fischer, the single greatest human being ever born, aside from myself. In the by and by, I know that the strange disappearance of Fulla and Hannah and the banishment of Fischer, as well as the recent decisions by the delegates not to hold a special election so that I can embarrass everyone by running again are all a part of a vast conspiracy organized and perpetrated by the Evil Redman Gang, a group composed of Butch Cassidy, the Sundance Kid, Time Redmond, and Neil Brennan who attacks me at least 100 times a day and doesn't know anything about chess. This group more or less destroyed chess' reputation as a game played by normal, healthy, moral people with high ethical standards and good mental health. If only they had let ME have power, our reputation would be spotless now.